Lost AdventurerReward Offered
by Mark Cannon
Summary: A young man wanders out into the Wilderness in search of mystical ancient artifacts but finds something that defies any experience


SirRealist, once an aspiring Knight of Asgarnia and an upstanding scholar who believed in Saradomin, was last seen on undertaking on archaeological expedition into the Wilderness, searching for relics from the God Wars and the great civilization which had once flourished there. He is believed to have gone mad in his search, however, shortly after discovering evidence of a forgotten god named Armadyl. He was on his way back, excitedly writing about his findings, when he became separated from his guide by Revenants. It is believed that the spirits corrupted his body and began to decay at his physical essence, which caused a strain on his mental health. He escaped to the Rogue's Castle where he is believed to have been laid up for months, during which he wrote about his findings. Little made sense, however, the charred and tattered remains of his journal contained the following entry: "165 Wintumber 35: I have found some troubling news. This relic I had stumbled upon which I thought proved the existence of Armadyl turned out to be a fake! Deep in the Rogue's Castle, though, while they thought I was laid up with my sickness, I snuck into the treasury and found an ancient scroll, bearing symbols of Zaros. With shaking hands, I opened it and [the rest of this page is torn out] from my battle with the Revenants. I had stumbled for days across the smoldering wastes with the evil spirits hot on my trail, when I found myself against a sheer cliff wall! Just when I thought I was doomed, familiar face I thought had been gone forever loomed out of one of the crevices! It was Alice, my cat which perished in Varrock during a fierce battle with an enormous rat. I had seen the cat die before my own eyes, I swear by Saradomin, yet there she was, albeit radically altered from her previous state: she was covered in spikes and smoking, emitting a strong smell of sulphur. Before I could recover from the shock of seeing her, she broke and ran among the Revanants and began tearing them asunder with her claws. I watched, dumbfounded, as the essence of the violent ghosts dispersed, leaving only a sort of coalescing mist which produced an evil aura. Before the spirits could re-form and renew their chase, I ran headlong into the violently swirling mists and came out the other side forever changed. Battling the disease and poison which had settled over me like a thick fog, I followed Alice as she blazed a trail through the dangerous beasts. They would not come near us, and I was wondering if somehow my spirit had become c— [the remainder of this page is scorched by dragonfire] I fear I am losing my mind! I am lying here, slowly recovering from the poison, looking down my hands. I swear by Almighty Zaros, I can see the page which I am writing beneath them! They have gone in the past few days from an ashy, bloodless pallor to a deep dusky hue, and now they are becoming more transparent before my very eyes! I can feel my very being fading away as I write these words…I wonder if I shall waste away and becoming nothing, and become one with the earth's spirit. Zamorak have mercy on my s—[this page, the last entry, appears to have been cut with a crude blade of some kind]

SirRealist was last seen emerging from the Rogue's Castle, a shadowy figure slinking out of the courtyard and walking up a steep slope back towards the last known camp. His guide had bravely faced down the dangers and was returning with a contingent of White Knights seeking to reclaim the lost wizard.

From a distance, he could be seen struggling up the slope to retrieve his pack. He ignored our hails. He was like a man driven, looking like he was possessed. He was having difficulty walking and supported himself with a crude staff that seemed to have been primitively carved with the symbol of Zaros on top. He rummaged through his pack, carelessly throwing aside all of the findings that we had excavated on our expedition, sending them tumbling over the sides of the mountain. We were nervous that the noise would attract the unwanted attention of some of the Wilderness's more dangerous creatures and begged him to stop, but it was all in vain. Finally, he seemed to find what he had been looking for and held it up over his head, clenched in a fist with wild ecstasy, he hurtled back down the mountain and literally ran headlong into the Chaos Elemental.

He fell back a step or two, then actually stood and faced the thing down. He called on arcane energies never seen before in this Realm, lightning tore from the skies and rendered the incorporeal entity, driving its insubstantial form backwards. We could not believe the power he was wielding—was the Elemental actually retreating from this lone, seemingly mad figure? He wielded his power with a kind of berserk grace, that it actually seemed to respect him and reconsider the fight.

Then, suddenly, the monster, disorder incarnate, thrust its essence forwards in a last-ditch effort to end the battle, and at the same time, SirRealist lunged with the staff and swung it, shining a hundred different colors, pulsing with such vibrant light that none of us could look upon it. The last thing that any of us saw, at the crux of the point of impact, was the energy of both man and elemental seeming to merge, uniting into a single, arcane entity.

With an earth-shattering crash, the violent struggle ended, but when we looked upon the scene of the battle, nothing was left of him or his magicks, not even a charred cinder of ash or brimstone. All was gone—only a lump of metal remained smoking on the ground, fused to what was remained of the wood that had composed the staff which the sorcerer had wielded unto his last, and the lingering essence of the Chaos Elemental hung on the air, waiting to reform its wild energies back into its shape. We were forced to flee before the creature could become solid again and attack us..

The restless energy once known as SirRealist is believed to still be wandering the surface of Glienor, feeding off of the energies of the living, and spreading its chaotic influence to all who come near. The shade is believed to be quite powerful and should not be attempted alone—as he is believed to be stockpiling runes and…farming. To what nefarious ends these actions are being performed, only Guthix knows.

If anyone has any clues as to the whereabouts of SirRealist's remains, please inform his family, as they would like to put his body to rest underneath the cradling yew tree that he so loved to play under as a child growing up in Seer's Village. They believe that his soul will finally be able to rest in peace, and to cease its endless wandering.


End file.
